It's All Sam's Fault
by jhoom
Summary: It was just supposed to be a quick stop at a bar before heading out of town for the next case. It was not supposed to have a discussion of glory holes and end with a trip to the bathroom. (basically destiel pwp)


**AN:** This is primarily based on a tumblr post I saw and couldn't stop thinking about. Decided to write this to cheer myself up after 11x10 this week. Even though I probably could write more of this, I plan to leave it as a stand alone oneshot.

As always, hit me up on tumblr jhoomwrites (just my writing) or jhoomreads (all my random fandom stuff).

* * *

Like most things in his life, it was all Sam's fault.

They'd finished a hunt just outside Boston, a salt and burn that felt more like an errand than an actual hunt, and were making their way out west. It was cold and they were bored and it had been unanimously decided that they needed a quick break before another ten hour drive.

Which is how the three of them had ended up at a bar. A relatively crowded, decently clean bar with craft beers Dean had never even friggin heard of but that were delicious so he wasn't going to complain. They were a few hours into the night and they'd been maintaining a pleasant buzz.

Until Sam had to ruin it. Goddamn little brothers.

Sam comes back from the bathroom, nearly knocking over his and Cas' beers when he slams the table excitedly. "Dude."

Scowling slightly and wiping up the bit of beer that had spilled, Dean barks out a sharp, "What? You raised in a barn or something?"

"Dude, forget about that." He's nearly bouncing with excitement.

He rolls his eyes before indulgently asking, "What?"

"This place has a glory hole in the back stall."

Dean blinks and stares at him for a moment. "And did you use said glory hole?" He tries to remember how long Sam had been gone, wondering if a joke about Boston and Minutemen would work.

"What? No. Gross, Dean. It's just I've never actually _seen_ one and-"

"And you're what, twelve years old? Get over it, Sammy."

Sam gives him a bitchface, clearly annoyed that his brother can't even find this a _little_ funny.

"What's a glory hole?"

Dean nearly chokes, even though he wasn't even drinking anything, and Sam's jaw drops open and face goes pale. Both brothers just stare at Cas, no idea how to even approach answering this question.

"You know what," Dean nearly shouts as he stands up abruptly. "I uh... I think I need another round. You want one? Cas? Sam? I'll just go get us another round-" and before he can even see the look on Sam's face, he nearly runs to the bar.

It's Sammy's fault, really. _He_ had to bring it up and make it awkward for everyone. _He's_ just going to have to deal with it.

Dean takes a long, calculated amount of time ordering. He makes sure to flirt with the bartender before wavering back and forth in his decision, and asks an obnoxious number of questions about each selection. And he's extra careful not to look back at their table the whole time.

When he finally does make it back to their little corner table, Sam's cheeks are a little red and he frowns at Dean as he takes a seat. Cas is just staring thoughtfully in the direction of the bathrooms. There's a tense moment or two, but then it settles back into their usual relaxed banter and the whole thing's forgotten.

Since the brunt of the research for this case had fallen on Sam, he's understandably a little tired. After yawning for nearly five minutes straight, Dean kicks his leg and tells him to go back to the motel and get some sleep. He protests at first, but Cas gently encourages him to rest. Gulping down the rest of his beer, he pulls on his jacket and heads out with a brief wave and a warning not to stay out too late.

They manage to get a pool table and spend the next hour arguing about the correct order to watch the Star Wars movies in. Cas has this weird, piecemeal order that Charlie had recommended to him. Dean, ever the traditionalist, argues for original trilogy first and then prequels. (He doesn't say to ignore the prequels though - he may have a slight crush on Ewan MacGregor, and in his opinion, he makes the prequels worth it.)

Eventually Dean feels himself getting tired and suggests they head back. Cas nods his assent, but hesitates slightly before saying he needs to go pee. Normally Dean would give him shit about not being able to hold it the five minutes it'll take to walk back to the hotel, but he still has to close them out so he shrugs.

The ex-angel rushes off. As he goes to flag down a bartender, Dean gets distracted pulling out his wallet. A very drunk pair of girls collide right into him, spilling their fruity drinks all over him. They apologize, blinking at him through long eyelashes, and he grits his teeth as he says it's okay. (It's not, these are his favorite pair of pants and the only ones that are still clean. _Were_ still clean.) A bit giggly, they disappear and he pays.

His pants are nearly soaked through in spots, so he heads to the bathroom to try and at least dry them up a bit. It's friggin cold out and the heat in their motel room's kind of iffy. Last thing he needs is to freeze to death.

It doesn't really hit him until he's pulled out a wad of paper towels that Cas hasn't come out yet. He looks down the line of stalls, a nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. It's hard to tell, but he's _pretty_ sure they're all empty. Except that one all the way at the end.

Looking around, slightly embarrassed, he leans over a bit just to check. Yep, definitely someone in there.

He chews the inside of his lip as he considers what to do, his damp pants completely forgotten. After his initial hesitation, he heads down the line of stalls, stopping one over from the end. Without giving himself time to think, he steps inside and locks the door behind him.

His first thought is, "Sammy wasn't lying." Because there is indeed a glory hole right there in front of him, on the wall connecting his stall to the occupied one next door. He judges it to be the perfect height, too, for someone around his size. Someone Cas' size, even...

His dick gives an interested twitch.

Before he can really think about what he's going to do, the decision is sort of mind for him. Because that's when a half-hard cock slides through the hole, beautiful and just _begging_ for attention.

This is reckless. This is stupid. This is a totally, awful idea that can't end well.

He can't get on his knees fast enough.

Dean starts getting nervous, all to aware of the fact that he's never blown a guy before. Been blown by a guy, sure, but this is totally different. To buy himself some time, he gently but firmly grips the base and starts stroking him to full hardness.

It's muffled, but the appreciative moan coming through the wall is deep and rough and _definitely_ Cas.

He is so totally, completely fucked.

Ignoring his own cock in favor of the one in front of him, he licked his lips before leaning in and giving a quick, tentative lick around the head. Another moan and a drop of pre-cum encourage him to do it again, this time ending with a swipe of his tongue over the slit. There's not enough to really _taste_ Cas, just a hint and a promise of more.

Dean takes a few minutes to lick his way up and down, leaving no part of Cas' cock untouched. (And if he peppers in a few kisses every now and then, who's to know?) Even through the wall, he can hear Cas deep breathing getting unsteady. He keeps needing to lap up the pre-cum, definitely getting a real taste now, and each time has to bite back a moan of his own.

When he feels like he's spent enough time working Cas up, he finally puts the whole head into his mouth. He sucks slightly, keeping his own preferences in mind, before sliding down another inch and sucking again. He pulls back, almost all the way off, before taking more in. Again and again he keeps this up until, _finally_ , there's nothing left because he has all of Cas in his mouth.

The mere _idea_ makes him smile, but the reality of it has him palming his own needy cock. He stays like that for a moment, imagining Cas' hands running through his hair. Soothing but firm enough to keep him in place. He tries not to whimper at the thought.

He tries to swallow around the whole length, but he can't quite manage it so he gives up and starts moving again. He bobs his head back and forth, varying from a fast pace to a slow one because goddamn if he wasn't a tease even now. Cas seems to love it though, if the absolutely _obscene_ sounds he pulls from the former angel are any indication.

His jaw starts to get sore, so Dean sighs slightly and decides to stop messing around. He moves back and forth in earnest, goaded on by wanting to taste _all of_ Cas. It turns out he doesn't have a gag reflex. (And finding that out while blowing his best friend? Yeah, he'll have to un-pack that whole mess later. _Much_ later.) He uses that newly gained knowledge to fuck himself against Cas, once again imagining those strong hands guiding his head.

Somehow the idea of Cas using him like this nearly gets him coming in his pants, but he manages to keep going.

It's not long before Cas is coming down his throat with a strangled cry, a small twitch of his dick the only warning. Not that Dean cares. Not at all. Greedily, he swallows it all down and then does his best to lick Cas clean.

God, that was _awesome_. That was _amazing_. Giddy, Dean wonders if Cas would let them switch, would get on his knees and return the favor. If it'd be as good as he'd always imagined, trading blowjobs with his-

And just like that, panic starts to set in. He's not sure what Cas' reaction would be to his best friend blowing him without him knowing. He springs to his feet and backs away, looking around to see what possible damage control he can do.

The walls between stalls are thankfully long enough that they can't really see each other's feet, so he doesn't worry about Cas recognizing his shoes. He'd been careful not to make too many noises, so he's not concerned about that. His choices are to stay in here and wait for Cas to leave or to go now and hope he can make it out of the bathroom before Cas can see him.

He's tempted to just hide in here forever. Then he thinks about how it would play out if Cas left first and had to wait for him. Saw him - and only him, there's no one else in here - come out of the bathroom. That would lead to some serious awkwardness and things he's seriously not ready to talk about right now.

Without a chance for anything else to happen, he barrels out of the stall and nearly sprints back to the bar. He grabs a stool by the bar, shifting until he's reasonably sure his boner's hidden (why the hell his freak out hasn't taken the edge off his arousal he has no fucking clue) and basically starts twiddling his thumbs. He's tempted to order a shot of whiskey to calm his nerves, but if he starts right now he won't be able to stop.

Turns out he didn't need to rush. Five minutes pass and he's almost got control of his own arousal when Cas finally makes an appearance. Their eyes lock and Cas smiles sheepishly before making his way to the bar. But other than the slightly relaxed way he moves, there's no indication of what just happened.

"Ready to go?" he finds himself asking and is just a bit proud that his voice doesn't falter.

"Mmhmmm," Cas answers with a lazy nod.

Dean just swallows, taking in how adorable his friend looks all fucked out and sated. Tries not to let his dick think about how _he_ did that. And most importantly, tries not to look too guilty as he follows the angel turned hunter out of the bar.

God, he is going to _kill_ Sam for ever bringing up the damn thing in the first place.


End file.
